


Hold Me Close, Darling

by Lichinamo



Series: Unconnected SAF Stories [5]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe-Modern Setting, Bodyguard AU, Bodyguard!Curt, Falling In Love, GSWs, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Light Smut, M/M, More tags to be added, Non-graphic depiction of wounds, Rich!Owen, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/pseuds/Lichinamo
Summary: Owen should’ve known better than to fall in love with Curt.He’d cycled through almost a dozen bodyguards in half as many months- none of them could put up with his attitude, according to Mummy- but the first time he’d sniped something rude at Curt he’d just smiled and said ‘yes, Mister Carvour’.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: Unconnected SAF Stories [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888417
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61





	1. The Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> Me, carving out a niche in this fandom:

Owen should’ve known better than to fall in love with Curt.

He’d cycled through almost a dozen bodyguards in half as many months- none of them could put up with his attitude, according to Mummy- but the first time he’d sniped something rude at Curt he’d just smiled and said ‘yes, Mister Carvour’.

“Mister Carvour?”

Owen looked up from his desk, where he’d been doodling nonsense again, to find Curt standing at the door in full uniform. God, he looked so handsome, even dressed in just his work slacks and dark tee shirt-

Owen closed his eyes for a moment, counted to three, and said, “Yes, Curt?”

“Missus Carvour wants you to know that it’s almost time for the gala.”

Owen nodded. “Right. I’ll be down in a mo.”

“I’ll get the car ready for you, sir.” Curt shuffled away, and Owen watched him go. Damn it, damn him, damn it all, Owen just couldn’t _take_ this.

Owen sighed and got up, brushing himself off. It was best not to get caught up in his thoughts- the last time he’d done so, he’d become so aroused by the mere thought of Curt that he’d had to lock himself in the bathroom in a panic until his body calmed down.

Owen made his way down the stairs, chanting internally that he would be normal. He made it all the way to the car.

Curt held the door open for him, and Owen gave him a nod. He internally congratulated himself on keeping it together when Curt slid in next to him and stripped off his shirt.

“My apologies, Mister Carvour,” Curt said, muscles rippling with each movement. “I didn’t have time to change into a more suitable outfit earlier.”

Owen swallowed, trying not to stare as he watched Curt put on a dress shirt and suit jacket.

“I can help you with your tie,” Owen said before he could help himself.

Curt looked at him for a moment before smiling. “Thank you, Mister Carvour.” He passed the piece of black fabric to Owen.

Owen got close to Curt and held his breath as he tied the tie, focusing more on his actions and not on their proximity. 

When he was done, Owen hovered, wanting to kiss him silly.

Curt placed a gentle hand on Owen’s wrist. “Are you all right?”

Owen nodded dumbly, closing his eyes and pretending for just a moment that they could be together.


	2. Protect Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, adding dirty tags: 👀

The gala was rather boring.

Owen found himself practically falling asleep as he chattered aimlessly about nothing with the other adult children of famous, important, or rich people. Honestly, they were so dull, Owen hated going to these events.

“Try to stay awake, Mister Carvour,” Curt said with amusement. “Unless you’d like a repeat of last time.”

Owen tried not to blush. Owen had actually fallen asleep at some boring party, and Curt had to carry him not only to the car, but all the way back to his room.

“I think I can manage,” was the last thing Owen said before everything went to shite.

A loud banging echoed throughout the room, and Owen didn’t even have time to react before Curt was throwing the both of them to the ground, shielding Owen with his body.

Owen slammed his eyes shut and curled into the larger man. Owen may have been taller than him, but Curt was bulkier- fitting for his profession.

It was over quickly. Not quickly enough in Owen’s opinion, but that was likely due to the fear coursing through his veins.

Curt grunted and stroked Owen’s cheek gently. “Are you okay, Mister Carvour?”

Owen nodded, still not looking. “Yes, I’m- I’m all right.”

“Good.” Curt rolled off of him, and Owen finally peeled open his eyes to see blood beginning to blossom from Curt’s side.

Owen sat up in alarm. “Oh my god, Curt?!”

Curt pressed his hand to his side firmly, applying pressure to the wound. “Did I get any blood on you, sir?” He sounded whoozy, out of it.

Owen ignored him, neck craning around for the EMTs who had begun to file in, arm waving in the air to beckon them over. “Medic! Medic, he’s been shot!”


	3. Hospital Rooms

Owen felt like he was in a trance as he sat in the hospital waiting room.

Mummy had come to check on him, worried that something had happened, but he’d assured her he was fine. She’d tried to take him home, but he refused. Curt was in surgery.

Curt, who took a bullet for him.

Owen honestly couldn’t believe it. This was the most dangerous thing he’d experienced- apart from the time he was kidnapped in primary school- and he was just. . . stunned that Curt took a bullet for him.

It didn’t matter that it was Curt’s job to protect him; Owen had never even thought of Curt getting hurt, so actually seeing it happen had truly shaken him.

Eventually, a nurse brought him back to Curt’s room, explaining that he should be waking up from the anesthesia any moment now, but that he was on a lot of drugs.

Owen wanted to cry when he saw Curt- kind, beautiful Curt- reclined in the hospital bed. He looked so pale, with a breathing tube up his nose and an IV drip in his hand. He was hooked up to who knows how many machines to monitor his vitals, and he was dressed in a paper gown with a thin cotton blanket draped over him.

Owen sat anxiously at his side, praying that he’d be okay, until eventually, Curt stirred.

Owen sat up straighter, unconsciously taking Curt’s hand in his. “Curt?”

Curt blinked at him, squinting from the harsh lights. “O’en?”

Curt had never addressed him by his first name before. It was probably the drugs, but Owen found he liked it. He squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Yeah, Curt. It’s me.”

“‘re you okay?”

“I’m fine, Curt.” Owen spoke gently, trying not to startle the man.

Curt smiled in relief. “I’m glad.” He squeezed Owen’s hand weakly, making the Brit’s heart ache.

Owen reached over and stroked back Curt’s hair soothingly, almost shocked when the other man melted into the touch. “You need rest. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’ want to.” Curt’s eyes were already half-lidded again, but he said it grumpily, almost like a toddler protesting nap time.

“Why not?”

“You’ll leave.”

Of all the things for him to say, Owen hadn’t expected that. “Curt,” Owen said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Curt sounded more vulnerable in that moment than Owen had ever heard him.

“I promise.”

Curt slipped off to sleep, and Owen watched over him protectively, thoughts racing at a million miles a minute.


	4. Wakey-Wakey

Curt didn’t wake up again for the rest of the night, but Owen stayed faithfully by his side.

He spent the whole time pondering exactly _why_ Curt had wanted him to stay.

Did Curt feel safer or more comfortable with him there? Was Curt desperate for company? Did Curt _like_ him?

The last one was ridiculous, so Owen banished the thought. There was no way Curt could like _him._

Eventually, sometime around eight in the morning, Curt stirred again.

Owen sat up straighter, squeezing Curt’s hand. “Curt? Can you hear me?”

Curt hummed, not opening his eyes just yet. “Don’ wanna wake up.”

Owen couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see Curt like this, even if he hated the circumstances that caused it. “Still sleepy?”

“Mmhm,” Curt hummed again. “Sleepy.”

“That’s all right.” Owen ran his thumb over the back of Curt’s hand gently. “You get all the rest you need.”

Curt made a happy sound, shifting in the bed to get more comfortable. He pulled a face, causing Owen to frown.

“Are you all right, Curt?”

“Hur’s,” Curt grumbled, looking pained.

“Do you want more medication?” Owen asked, trying to stamp down on his worry.

Curt nodded, and Owen pressed a button to summon a nurse. “Don’t worry, Curt,” He said soothingly. “I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

Curt nodded again, and Owen had to resist the temptation to brush a kiss against the man’s knuckles. He really was smitten, wasn’t he?


	5. Third Time’s the Charm

It wasn’t until noon that Curt woke up and was actually somewhat aware of what was going on around him.

Curt had scrunched his face up, eyes barely beginning to open, and he let out a groan.

Owen, who had once again reverted to a much more comfortable position, sat up straight and squeezed his hand. 

Curt’s head lolled over to the side to look at Owen, and he peered at him before asking, “. . . Mister Carvour?”

Owen’s heart clenched at the moniker. On the one hand, he was glad Curt was well enough to remember that’s what he usually addressed Owen as, but on the other, he’d liked Curt calling him by his first name.

“Hey, Curt,” He said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Curt seemed to hesitate in answering, as if he didn’t want to tell Owen he was hurting. “Sore,” He said eventually.

“Do you remember what happened?” Owen asked delicately.

Curt shook his head. “Not really.”

Owen rubbed his thumb over Curt’s knuckles. “You were shot, Curt.”

Curt furrowed his eyebrows. “I was?” He squeezed Owen’s hand as if looking for reassurance. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, Curt, I didn’t.” Owen reached over and stroked his hair back gently. “You kept me safe.”

Curt nodded once, as if that was all that mattered.

“Curt.” Owen waited until Curt was looking at him. “You shouldn’t have done that for me.”

Curt frowned at him, and Owen was expecting to be told that he had to, it was his job.

Curt’s words surprised him. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” His expression was soft, and Owen tingled inside.


	6. The Hospital

“You don’t have to stay with me, Mister Carvour.”

Owen tried not to roll his eyes at that. He felt like he was being chided. “I’m not leaving you alone, Curt.”

He switched subjects quickly, before Curt had the chance to continue to try and talk him into leaving. “The doctor says you can come home soon.”

Curt seemed to deflate, puzzling Owen. Didn’t Curt want to be back at the house, where he could rest more comfortably than he could here?

Curt bit his lower lip, sucking on it nervously- and god, Owen really shouldn’t be staring- before he finally asked, “Will you visit me? At my apartment?”

Understanding dawned on Owen. “Oh, Curt. . .” He took Curt’s hand in both of his. “What did I just tell you? I’m not leaving you alone. You’re coming _home._ ”

Curt’s face furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? I can’t work for another few weeks. Not like this.” He gestured towards his wounded side.

Owen squeezed his hand firmly. “I know, Curt. I’m going to be taking care of you until you get better.”

A blush quickly rose to Curt’s face. “Mister Carvour-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Owen said firmly. “You took a bullet for me. This is the least I can do.”

Curt looked like he wanted to keep arguing, but something in Owen’s expression had him conceding. “If you say so, sir.”

Owen would convince Curt to call him ‘Owen’ later. Instead, he just held Curt’s hand and tried not to preen in success.


	7. Homecoming

Getting Curt up the stairs had taken quite a bit of effort, but with his arm slung over Owen’s shoulder, they’d managed.

Owen pushed the door to Curt’s room open gently. His room was just across the hall from Owen’s, in case Owen ever needed him, which was very convenient for this specific scenario.

It wasn’t as grand as Owen’s room was, but it was nice enough, with a queen sized bed, a bedside table, a dresser, and a closet.

Owen led him over to the bed, gently helping him lay down. “Easy, easy.”

“You really don’t have to do this for me, Mister Carvour,” Curt protested for the hundredth time, grunting in pain.

Owen couldn’t help it; he actually tutted at the older man. “Curt, I’ve already made up my mind.” He reached over and fluffed a pillow behind the man, maneuvering him into a reclined position.

“I don’t want you to feel indebted to me, sir-”

“I don’t feel indebted. I want to do this for you. And I insist-” He tapped the end of Curt’s nose, “you call me Owen.” 

Curt was looking at him with a dazed expression. “This must be some really strong pain medication,” He said slowly.

“Speaking of which. . .” Owen began unpacking the bag that the hospital sent him home with, placing Curt’s medication on the bedside table. “Pull up your shirt, I need to check your bandages.”

Curt bit his lip but did so without protest, probably not wanting Owen to scold him again. His entire left side was taped up with bandages, and it looked like it hurt like a bitch. Still, the bandages were clean and unstained, so they didn’t have to be changed just yet.

Owen reached over and rolled Curt’s shirt back down for him, fingertips brushing against his skin. “Here, let me get you a pillow for your back.”

Curt was a blushing mess as Owen went to go get him another pillow. He was probably embarrassed that he needed so much help, but that was fine. Owen was going to take great care of him.


	8. Touch Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT! If you don’t want to read it, stop reading after “Oh. _Oh._ ”
> 
> ;)
> 
> This is the first time I’ve written smut so pleas,,, be gentle,,,

“Curt, where do you think you’re going?”

Curt looked like a deer caught in the headlights, hand barely brushing the bathroom doorknob. The towel under his arm gave him away.

“Curt,” Owen said with a sigh. “You know that you can’t take a shower yet. The doctor said you need to keep your bandages dry.” He held out his hand to take the towel from him.

Owen could see the other man’s blush even in the dark. They both knew what was coming, and Curt was clearly embarrassed about it. Owen’s feelings were complicated due to his attraction to the bodyguard, but he put that aside for now. Compartmentalization, Carvour.

“I really don’t want to do this,” Curt said quietly, sounding embarrassed and ashamed of himself.

“I know,” Owen said, matching his tone. “But it has to be done.”

Owen helped Curt shuffle back off to his bedroom, and the wounded man sat on the bed as Owen went to gather the supplies for a sponge bath.

Eventually, he’d brought everything he needed into Curt’s room; two basins of water- one soapy and one clean-, a half dozen wash cloths and towels, soap, lotion, shampoo. He locked the door behind him so they wouldn’t be disturbed, and to give Curt a modicum of privacy.

Curt was burning in embarrassment as Owen laid a few towels down on the bed, and Owen sympathized for him.

“Can you take off your shirt, or do you need help?” Owen asked delicately, doing his best to try and not embarrass him any further.

Curt just silently sat down on top of the towels, managing to take his shirt off on his own.

Owen knelt beside the bed and dipped a wash cloth in the soapy water, beginning to clean him gently while being careful of the wound.

Curt didn’t look at him, getting redder and redder as time went on.

Eventually, Owen dried his torso off and helped him into a new shirt before finagling him out of his pants. Curt’s blush deepened- which Owen truly hadn’t thought was possible- and it took a moment for Owen to understand why, before his eyes landed on Curt’s crotch.

Oh. _Oh._

Owen blushed, trying to ignore the tent in Curt’s boxer-briefs as he washed his legs with a clean cloth. He bit his lip, telling himself that it was just Curt’s body reacting to stimulus, it didn’t have anything to do with him.

When Owen was done with Curt’s lower half, he hesitated for a moment before his fingers began tugging at the waistband of Curt’s underwear. It was fine, Owen told himself. It was fine.

And then Owen pulled them off and came face to face with Curt’s erection.

Owen peaked up at Curt, who looked somewhere between mortified and turned on.

Owen raised the third cloth and wrapped it around Curt’s cock, doing his best to focus on just giving him the bath.

Curt’s hip’s bucked, practically thrusting into Owen’s hand, and Owen almost gave in. Almost.

“I’m sorry,” Curt whimpered from above. “I’m so sorry, Mister Carvour-”

“Hush, now,” Owen said firmly. “Do you want this?”

“I-”

“Curt. Do you want this?”

It felt like it was an eternity before Curt replied. “Yes.”

Owen abandoned the cloth, thanked every God he knew that he’d locked the door, and wrapped his hand around Curt’s cock, stroking it with all the care he had.

Curt moaned before he shoved a fist in his mouth, not wanting to be overheard, and Owen felt pleasure shoot through him at the thought of doing this to Curt.

Owen twisted his hand, running his thumb over Curt’s head as he used his other fingers to keep stroking the rest of him. Curt thrusted into his hand, obviously close, and Owen had never been so satisfied in his life.

Owen paused his movements as he looked up and locked eyes with Curt. “Beg me,” He commanded softly. “Beg me for your release.”

“ _Owen,_ ” Curt whimpered pathetically. “Please, please-” He wheezed, not from pain but from pleasure.

“Please what?” Owen teased, his touch ghosting over Curt.

Curt squeezed his eyes shut. “Please let me cum.”

“Well then, who am I to deny you?”

With that, Owen increased his speed, touching him as if he’d done this a million times before. Curt came with a guttural shout, barely managing to shove his fist back into his mouth to muffle it. Owen wished he hadn’t; the sound was magnificent.

Owen cleaned Curt up delicately, redressing him as if nothing had happened. When he was done, he patted the older man’s leg reassuringly. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Curt just groaned, and Owen helped settle him back into bed before cleaning up the room to make it seem as if nothing- not the sponge bath nor the impromptu hand job- had happened.

Finally, he was able to make his way into his room.

Right, time to get himself off, then.


	9. Morning After

Owen felt as if the night before had been a dream. There was no way something so wonderful had actually happened- he must’ve made it up.

The blush on Curt’s face when Owen walked into his room put that thought to rest.

“Mister Carvour, I’m so _sorry-_ ”

Owen cut him off, perching at the edge of the bed. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Curt opened his mouth as if to explain exactly why he was sorry, before being overcome with embarrassment. Before his injury, he was hardly ever like this. Owen was truly seeing a new side of him.

“Curt,” Owen said softly, putting his hand on the older man’s knee. “I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t wanted to.”

Curt closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “Mister Carvour,” He said slowly, “I’m worried about you.”

Owen was startled by the non-sequitur. “Whatever for?”

Curt looked like he was struggling to speak. “I’m afraid that you’ve. . . Convinced yourself that you have feelings for me because of what I did.”

Owen melted, and he squeezed Curt’s knee gently. “Curt. . .”

Curt squeezed his eyes shut. “Please, Mister Carvour. I can’t- I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if I took advantage of you.”

“Took advantage of me? Curt, you’re assuming that my feelings for you are new when that’s just not the case.”

Curt looked at him in surprise as Owen took his hand. “I’ve had feelings for you for almost as long as I’ve known you. So you saying that my behavior is because of what you did couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

Curt’s hand was rough in his as he ran his thumb over Owen’s knuckles. “I can’t give you what you deserve, Owen.”

“You don’t have to give me anything but yourself. That’s more than enough.” Owen raised Curt’s hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it. “Tell me, would you like to give us a shot?”

Curt sucked on his bottom lip for a moment in thought. “Does this mean I’m out of a job?”

Owen barked out a surprised, relieved laugh.


	10. Lunch

Curt was much softer than Owen had ever anticipated.

He’d thought that the blushing would subside once they began dating, but no; the man was just that shy and easy to embarrass. Merely lightly touching his thigh was enough to make him a stuttering mess.

It was, quite frankly, adorable.

Curt had also confessed, while high on painkillers, that he felt as if he had to put on a brave front at all times, to pretend to be stronger than he really was, to take care of the people around him.

Owen had decided he now had to dedicate as much time as he possibly could to pampering the shite out him.

“Curt, love?” Owen asked, knocking gently on his doorframe. “I got you something.”

Curt looked up, probably about to protest that he didn’t need anything, really, when Owen simply held up a McDonald’s bag. Owen knew when to take baby steps- if he’d shown up with anything fancier than fast food, Curt might’ve combusted.

Curt relaxed somewhat as Owen made his way over to his bedside, but he still looked uncomfortable. “Owen, you don’t have to-”

“I know,” Owen said, placing the bag on the bedside table and pulling the food out. He’d gotten them chicken nuggets, a Big Mac, and a large fry- a large amount of food, enough to share.

Owen sat so he was facing Curt, and held the box of nuggets in his lap. He cracked it open and pulled one out. “Open up.”

Curt went red all the way up to the tips of his ears. “Are you actually doing this, Owen?”

“Yup,” Owen made a popping sound with his lips, holding the nugget forward and staring Curt down until he grumpily bit into it. “Now was that so hard?”

Curt huffed, finishing off the nugget. “I think you get off on embarrassing me.”

Owen hummed, grabbing the next nugget and feeding it to him. “Maybe so.”

Curt’s blush worsened, and Owen laughed, brushing his fingertips against Curt’s lips even after he was done.

Curt pressed a kiss to each of fingers. “Maybe I should put these in my mouth.”

Owen sputtered, and Curt smirked at him playfully.

“Such a naughty boy,” Owen managed to murmur, and Curt just pressed another kiss to his fingertip.


	11. Hold Me

Another aspect of Curt’s softness that Owen had never anticipated was the cuddling.

Owen hadn’t expected much when it came to cuddling. He anticipated trying to coax the older man into holding Owen in his arms, grumbling unhappily about it the whole time. Or he expected Curt to not be a cuddler at all. Which would’ve been sad, but he was willing to accept it.

This, though. This was better than Owen could’ve ever dreamed.

Curt had nervously fiddled with a string on his blanket, avoiding making eye contact, and shyly asked if Owen was willing to cuddle him.

He’d enthusiastically agreed, crawling into the bed with him. Owen was preparing himself for a night of being held firmly when Curt followed it up with, “Do you prefer being the big spoon or the little spoon?”

That was something Owen hadn’t even considered. He paused, mulling it over. It didn’t matter much to him, though he did like the thought of holding Curt, keeping him close and knowing he was safe. . .

“Which do you prefer?” Owen asked softly.

Curt bit his lip, averting his eyes again. He was so shy Owen couldn’t take it, it was just so precious. “I prefer the little spoon,” He whispered, hoarse.

Owen relaxed into the bed and held open his arms. “Come here, love.”

Curt leaned into his touch, and Owen wrapped around him happily, feeling as Curt curled into him and nuzzled into his chest. They weren’t actually spooning, since they were facing each other, but that didn’t matter to Owen. Curt was in his arms, and that was the important part.

This, Owen thought, is what heaven must feel like.


	12. Patch Me Up

“Ow!”

“Hold still, love,” Owen chided gently as he removed the bandages from his side. “I need to clean your wound.”

Curt was gritting his teeth, clearly trying to hide his pain and not doing very well. “It hurts, Owe.” He was perched on top of the closed toilet, since they’d decided that the bathroom would be the best place to do this.

“I know, honey,” He said soothingly, washing his hands before gathering the cleaning supplies provided by the hospital.

Curt’s side had half a dozen stitches in it, and Owen cringed just looking at it. He couldn’t imagine how it felt.

He doused a cotton ball in the cleaning solution and gently dabbed the wound. Owen tried to ignore the hisses of pain coming from Curt as he cleaned him.

Owen made quiet shushing sounds as he finished, quickly washing and drying his hands so he could apply a new set of bandages.

“Hush, now,” Owen said softly as he taped the bandages to his side. “We’re all done.”

Curt took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and he nodded at Owen.

Owen slipped his hand into Curt’s. “Come on, let’s get you some pain medication and you can take a nap.”

“I’m not a child, Owen,” Curt protested grumpily as Owen dragged him off to his room.

“No, you’re not,” Owen said as he helped Curt lay down, “but you need to rest.”

Curt huffed as Owen handed him some pills and a water to wash them down with, but he swallowed them anyway.

Owen crawled into bed beside him and tugged Curt into his arms. “Come on, love. Don’t you want to cuddle?”

“You’re so unfair,” Curt whined, giving in and snuggling into Owen’s body.

Owen chuckled and patted Curt’s arse, feeling him jerk slightly in surprise. “You love me anyway.”

Curt hummed, not confirming nor denying the statement, and Owen counted that as a win.


	13. Safe and Warm

If someone had told Owen that he would see Curt cry, he wouldn’t have believed them.

Curt tried to never show weakness, and Owen simultaneously admired that about him and hated it. He liked it when Curt let him in, let him help.

Now, though, he just wished Curt was okay.

Owen rocked Curt in his arms gently as he sobbed, making quiet shushing noises and rubbing his back soothingly.

Curt had a nightmare. Owen didn’t know about what, but he assumed it was about the gala, what with how he was clinging to Owen like a lifeline. His sobs were gut wrenching, it was tearing Owen apart.

Owen kissed his tears away, cooing at him in an attempt to comfort the older man. “It’s okay, Curt, it’s okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you here.”

Curt buried his face into Owen’s side, as if he were terrified that Owen would disappear, slip through his fingers, and Owen’s heart just broke for him.

He needed to keep Curt safe. He needed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has stalled for now, I don’t really have inspiration anymore, so as of right now, this is the end


End file.
